Author: Don Fraser
He rode the trail for months. He and his horse knew no home. The war had taken the one thing he loved his home in the south. The Blue coats had burned it to the ground after they lived in it all through the war. They had alienated his sister and killed his father. His mother died from grief.
When the war ended and he went back home and saw all of the destruction, and his sister married a blue coat, there was nothing left for him to do, but hit the wide open trail. He had a little money saved, but not near enough, He road that trail looking for work, but nobody would hire a rebel.
He always considered himself an honest and reliable man. After all wasn’t he made a sergeant in the southern army? But his savings were dwindling down. He had to do something. As luck would have it, a stagecoach was coming in the distance. He could see the dust the wheels and the horses raised. A thought came to his mind; he would rob the stage.
He rode his horse up behind the stagecoach without being seen. Then the guard saw him and pickup his rifle and shot at him. But the mans horse was faster than that stage, he overtook the horses and grabbed their reigns bringing them to a stop. He said to the driver, throw down that box, without hesitation the driver did what he was told, the guard just sat there and watched.
Then he went after the people inside, there was an elderly man and a pretty girl in there, the man looked like he had money so he told him to empty his pockets and to open his brief-case that he held to his chest. When the old man opened it, there were thousands of dollars showing. He scooped up all that he could hold. The girl said "What about me? I have no money. All that I have is this broach that my Mother gave me before she died at the hands of the blue coats."
"You pretty lady are excused." After saying that, he mounted his horse and rode off.
About a year later, the man went into a hotel to rent a room. The clerk was the pretty girl from the stagecoach. She remembered him all to well, but she did not call the sheriff. She told him how grateful she was for not taking her broach, He looked at her neck and she was still wearing it. "My pleasure ma'am." Then and there a romance was started.
------- Author's Notes -------
This story is about my youngest son, Tim
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